Four Homes in LA
by ragiincajun
Summary: When Hillary and Jack move into the supposedly haunted Murderhouse of Los Angeles, not only are they greeted by their paranormal tenants, but their even crazier, wacky neighbors. But, it is California. What can you expect? - A very bad incredibly self-inserty story written for my best meme. Don't read if you're not into terrible crossover fan fictions.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a few weeks since Jack and Hillary moved into the supposedly haunted "Murderhouse" of L.A. Mostly drawn to the low price, they rented almost immediately and were able to settle in easily. So far, no hauntings of the sort. However, when Jack came home with a Ouija board they picked up from a garage sale and suggested the two use it, Hillary wanted no part of it.

"Are you crazy? It's a haunted house and you want to use that thing?" She snapped.

"Okay, first off, we haven't had one spooky thing happen to us. Do you think a dumb Ouija board is gonna change that?"

"Uh, yeah? Ouija boards are fucked up man."

"Hey man, don't talk shit about Ouija boards. They're cool!" They said. A gust of wind suddenly blew through the house, chilling the two, despite being in southern California.

"See! Look at that! There's wind in here and all the windows are shut." Hillary pronounced. Jack then realized what they had to do. They pulled out their best pouty face and lip quibble they could manage.

"I-I guess I'll j-just... Throw it away then..." They said, dragging their feet over to the kitchen garbage. Hillary watched as they opened the trashcan, about to dump the board, when she spoke out.

"Stop!" Jack turned around. "We can use it. But just once, okay? And if we get an evil spirit we stop immediately, alright?" They smiled widely, nodding, and rushed around the kitchen, pulling out candles from cabinets and a set of matches. They lit all the candles, turned off the lights, and set up the board on the counter. In a few moments, the creepy mood was set and the two were ready to use the spirit connector. They placed their hands on the planchette. Jack took an anxious breath.

"Man, I can't believe we're doing this! This is so exciting." They practically quivered in anticipation.

"I can't believe it either." Hillary murmured.

"I guess just don't be an ass to the spirit or anything."

"I'm not gonna be an ass. Are you gonna be an ass?"

"Hell no I'm not gonna be an ass. What kind of question is that?"

"Why the hell did you ask me then?"

"Because what if you're gonna be an ass to the spirit?"

"I'm not gonna be an ass!"

"I don't know if I can trust you."

"Oh my GOD JACK-" She was about to launch into a rant when suddenly the planchette moved. They both screamed, but kept their hands on the device. It scooted over to "S", then shifted to "H" and hovered there for a while. They stared at the board in silence.

"I think it's telling us to be quiet." Jack breathed. The planchette moved around the board again as Hillary read out the letters.

"G-O-O-D J-O-B G-E-N-I-U-S. Shit, it's sassy!" She laughed while they scowled at her.

"Ugh. Whatever. Ask it a question or something."

"Ha, you're mad because it likes me." The object moved about the board again. This time, Jack read it.

"E-H. Ha! The ghost thinks you're 'eh'!" They blurted. Hillary grabbed the planchette away from Jack and took full control of the board.

"Who do you think you are, trash bag?!" She shouted. The planchette moved with such speed that the two had trouble picking up a few of the letters.

"T-A-T L-A-N-O-N?" Jack questioned. "Is that your name? Tat Lanon?" They giggled. "That's kind of a stupid name." The planchette lifted off the board and hit them in the face. "Agh, fuck!" They shouted. The object went back to the board and got in a ready position. The two put their hands back on the planchette. This time, it moved slowly enough for the friends to get all the letters.

"Oh! Tate Langdon!" Hillary exclaimed.

"He sounds nice."

"Bruh," She started. "Google him."

"Good idea." Jack pulled out their phone, googling Tate.

"Shit. He's hot." They showed her a picture.

"DAMN. We gotta keep using this thing!"

"Wait... Wikipedia says he shot fifteen people. Oh my god dude. It's _the_ Tate Langdon. He was a school shooter! This guy's a psycho."

"Bruh. Just- Just stick to the images." Jack went back to the images tab.

"Fuck."

"Exactly."

"God damn it, Hillary. That is one solid point." They sat back down, putting their hands back on the planchette.

"You wanna ask a question this time?" She asked.

"Yeah, okay. Alright Tate, are you a good spirit or a bad one?" The planchette moved along the board while the two read out the letters in an almost trance.

"D-O Y-O-U G-O-T A-N-Y K-U-R-T C-O-B-A-I-N." Hillary said. "What?"

"You didn't answer the question, dude." Jack told the board. Suddenly, the planchette moved across the number section of the board and began counting down. They both screamed.

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!" Hillary shouted, clutching Jack. Even without their hands on it, the planchette continued to move on it's own.

"I DON'T KNOW." Screamed Jack back, latching on to Hillary. The board counted down to zero, the two continuing to yell in absolute terror. The candles blew out, and the house was plunged into darkness. They stopped screaming, but breathed heavily in anticipation, fearing for what was about to happen. Suddenly, the kitchen lights clicked on. They turned to the light switch next to the open doorway, when there, in the threshold stood a teenager. A mop of blonde hair was atop his head, shaggily outlining his face. He wore a dark, striped sweater, baggy jeans, and converse jeans. If the two hadn't just experienced the most frightening paranormal episode of their lives, they might've stopped to consider how cute he looked.

"'Sup?" He asked. Hillary and Jack were still holding each other in terror.

"'Sup?" They said back in unison.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer our question." Jack posed.

"Whatever, man! Do you got any Kurt Cobain!" He said back, a grin blossoming on his face. Shit. Shit, he was cute. His messy hair contoured his baby-like face. His dark brown eyes reflected off the light of the kitchen, and his cheeks, a soft rose color, completed his almost angelic look.

"What a babe." Whispered Hillary. Jack nodded in agreement, and the two unclasped from each other, ruffling their hair and smoothing out their clothes.

"S-So, are you-" Jack began.

"Tate Langdon! But I'm not a psycho. You kinda hurt my feelings when you said that." He responded, turning down to the ground and pouting. Hillary immediately rushed over and held Tate, having to stand on her tip-toes to pet his head. Jack couldn't help but smirk a bit at how short their friend looked compared to the tall teenager. However, they quickly had a change of heart.

"What the hell, dude." They stated.

"You were mean to Tate and he's a CHILD." She replied.

"He's older than me by like- Tate, what year did you die?"

"I... I'm not dead!" He pronounced.

"He's a lost soul! Poor baby-boo."

"He died in, like, 1996. That's what Wikipedia says, anyway. He's thirty four years old, man! He's not a child!"

"Liiiiiiiieeeeeeeeesssssssssss." Hillary hissed. She held Tate closer while he stuck his tongue out at Jack.

"Look! Look he's sticking his tongue out at me!" He retracted his tongue back into his mouth and sniffled, threatening to cry.

"Jack, you're terrible." Hillary gasped. She led Tate away from the kitchen. From the hall, Jack thought they could hear him ask if she wanted to hook up, then running up stairs, and a door slamming shut.

Hillary was right. The Ouija board was not a good idea.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, the two emerged from Hillary's room holding hands. Jack wore a bathrobe and large pink curlers in their already short hair to heighten their disgruntled-middle-aged-mother-who-has-to-deal-with-these-crazy-teenagers look. They poured a cup of coffee for themselves, despite having never drank coffee in their life, and looked at Hillate. Tatary? Whatever their ship name was, they didn't care. They sipped some of their coffee, reveled in the disgusting taste of it, and swallowed it with regret.

"You two have fun last night?" They asked, the bitterness of the coffee coming out in their voice.

"Yeah. You do have Kurt Cobain!" Tate responded, a cheeky grin filling his face. God damn it, he was pretty cute, but Jack had to remain their composure.

"Mr. Cobain wasn't the only thing I heard last night." They said, high five-ing themselves in their head. Great comeback, Jack. A+. Hillary and Tate giggled. This was disgusting. "I'm going to shower." They slammed their coffee mug on the counter, accidentally shattering it. "_Never buy cups from Target." _Jack thought. They awkwardly scooped up the shards and threw them in the trash. They then stormed up the stairs, their comedically large bathrobe trailing behind them like a cape.

They reached the bathroom, but instead continued down the hall to the balcony. Having a three story house was pretty great if one needed to get away from their roommates. They overlooked the property from the second-story veranda. What was also pretty great about having a tall house was the views. Jack stared into the backyard of their neighbor's house. They didn't know who they were, since Hillary and them just moved in a week ago. They should probably go over and introduce themselves, but stalking them was a little more preferable at the moment. In the backyard, a teenager was working on some project. They could only see the back of the teen, but that wasn't a bad view. Sweat doused him, making a wet spot on his tee shirt. He then stopped suddenly, turned around, and looked back a few times. Jack could get a visual on them a little more clearly. Silver hair hung at his shoulders, a pair of goggles rested atop his forehead. His white teeshirt was even more soaked in the front, clinging to his chest and abdomen, which looked pretty great for a teenager. What happened next left Jack awestruck. He finished looking around, put his goggles on, and ran. He was a literal blur, his project taking form in a matter of seconds. In moments, a shed of some sort was erected in the far corner of the yard.

"Holy shit." They accidentally said way too loudly. The teenager turned and looked right up to them. His expression instantly turned to panic, and so did Jack's. They ran back inside the house, into the bathroom, and slammed the door. They turned on the water, trying to go over what they just witnessed.

In the kitchen, Tate held Hillary in his arms as they swung side to side lightly, enjoying the rock of their bodies together. He rested his chin on the top of her head, reminiscing over the night before.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Hillary asked, breaking the silence.

"We could play Twister." Tate responded jokingly.

"We did that last night." She replied, playing along.

"Well, we can do whatever," He kissed her forehead. "you," He kissed her cheek. "want." He planted a final kiss on her lips. She hid her face in her hands.

"You're so cute, it's disgusting!" Tate laughed. "But we should see what Jack wants to do." He pouted.

"Why?" He drew out the word.

"Because, they were the one who even bought the Ouija board. And we were roommates first."

"Ugh. Fine." He sighed. They let the silence sink in for a few moments. "Can we still play Twister?"

"Twister Twister or _Twister Twister_?" Hillary asked.

"Let's find out." Tate responded seductively. He took her hands and led her back to their bedroom.

A few hours later, the three were back in the kitchen. They stood around the counter, revving up for the day.

"So, a week ago we moved into Murderhouse, duh. Yesterday, we accidentally released Tate from a Ouija board I found." Jack started. Tate started cheering and Hillary elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "Anyway," They continued. "We haven't introduced ourselves to the neighbors yet. It'd be nice if we did. And now that we have our final roommate," they eyed Tate. "We can all go over and say hi." Hillary clapped enthusiastically.

"Should we bring something?" She asked.

"Good idea, babe." Tate jutted in.

"Well, yeah. That is a good idea! The question is what, though." Jack said.

"A cake, maybe?" Tate suggested. "My mom would bake cakes for neighbors. They were really shitty cakes though. She sucked at baking. She sucked dick too. Dad left me alone with a cocksucker."

"...Okay...?" They responded. "TMI dude."

"Great idea, tater tot." Hillary responded.

"Not as great as you, Hilly-Billy!" Jack dry heaved in the sink. These nicknames were getting disgusting. But all in all, a cake was a good idea.

The team spent the next few hours baking, which was more fun than the three originally anticipated. They threw flour at each other, smeared icing on themselves, and overall just made a complete mess of the kitchen. Despite the situation they had found themselves in, for the first time since Tate arrived, they all felt that just maybe, they could all fit in together in this crazy house. Sure, one of them was dead, the other was only fifteen, and the third didn't even want to move into this weird house in the first place, but somehow in their differences, they found good company in each other. Maybe this house was pretty okay after all.


	3. Chapter 3

By late afternoon, the three had made two relatively nice cakes. The first was french vanilla with chocolate icing, and the second was the opposite. Simple. The vanilla cake was going to go to the house to the left of them, where Jack had seen the silver haired teenager. They hadn't told Hillary or Tate about him- they figured they were hallucinating when they saw him run so fast. Either way, they choose to ignore what they had seen. The chocolate cake with vanilla icing was for the house on the right, which the three knew was occupied, but they didn't know by who. Tate had told them a few horror stories about what could be on the other side of the fence, but both Hillary and Jack laughed them off.

Now, they all stared at their pastries in a post-baking trance.

"Do you think the neighbors would notice if we just took a slice?" Hillary asked.

"I wish they wouldn't." Jack responded. The cakes were calling to them. The three all sighed at the same time.

"We ought to take them over before we eat them ourselves." Tate added. The other two silently agreed. He picked up the vanilla cake and started to walk to the front door, where the roommates followed. They exited out the door and began their journey to the house next door.

The house was incredibly different from their 1920's mansion. It was painted a pale cream color with white trim around the windows and door frame. The mailbox outside seemed to originally read "The Maximoffs", but the "s" was crossed out. In it's place was a slash done in paint, "a Lenhsherr" brushed in, another slash, and "an Xaiver". It was charming in a odd sort of way. They walked up to the porch, where a charred welcome mat greeted their feet. They looked down at it in suspicion. Jack knocked on the door. They arranged themselves in a tight triangle, with Jack in the center and Hillary and Tate in the back, but still, all very close to each other. The door opened, where a tall man wearing a turtleneck and slacks looked down at the three. Well, looked down at Hillary and Jack. Tate was only a few inches shorter than him. They all stood in an awkward silence for a few moments.

"Uh, hi." Hillary began. "We just moved in the house to the side of you about a week ago and we wanted to introduce ourselves!"

"Oh. Thats nice. I'm Erik Lehnsherr." He spoke with a slight accent. Polish, maybe. He held out his hand, and Hillary took it. He then moved on to Jack, and then Tate. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure!" Hillary finished. They all walked in. The sitting room looked modern, but the singular leather couch opposite of the posh, suede love seat looked out of place. The three sat on the leather seat, all sinking into it as if it was quicksand.

"You can put that on the kitchen counter." Erik said, motioning to the cake and waving Tate off. He took off to the kitchen, placed it on the counter, and went back to the couch. "Can I get any of you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea? You all look rather young for alcohol." He sat down on the couch opposite.

"I'm actually thirty four." Tate said. The room fell until an awkward silence, until he started to laugh uncomfortably. The others followed in a short-lived, nervous chuckle.

"Water is fine." Jack said.

"Yeah, me too." Added Hillary.

"I'm fine, but thank you." Tate finished. Erik got up and fixed the beverages.

"So, you live in ol' Murderhouse, eh?" He asked.

"That's us." The youngest spoke.

"Any paranormal activity going on? By a week, tenants usually run out screaming." The man said. Jack eyed Tate. He rapidly shook his head no, appearing to be a little concerned.

"Nope!" They said a little to quickly. They tried to cover that. "For all the flack it gets, I'm amazed absolutely nothing has happened." Their words sounded forced. Erik brought out the drinks, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm. Well, I haven't even asked your names, how rude of me." He nodded his head towards Tate to start them off.

"I'm Tate." He said casually.

"Jack."

"Hillary."

"We seem to have a common theme, with four letter names. At least Jack, Tate and I, anyway." Erik said, snickering a bit at his own joke. The conversation halted when the four heard steps down the stairs. Another man, shorter, a mop of shaggy brown hair resting at his shoulders, a bit of stubble, and striking blue eyes, made his way to the first floor. He had on a button up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and jeans on, but stayed barefoot. He seemed a little taken aback by the three teenagers sitting on his couch.

"...Well, who do we have here?" He asked, looking at each of them as if specimens in a lab. He spoke with a pleasant British accent.

"The new neighbors. Tate, Jack, and Hillary. They brought a cake." Erik responded.

"Oh! Well, hello! I'm Charles Xaiver." He held out his hand for them to shake. They all took turns shaking his hand, and when that was done, he sat down on the couch Erik was on. He scratched his temple with two fingers, kept them there for a few moments, studied the group, then took them off and locked on the trio. "So, what's three teenagers doing living alone in Murderhouse?" They were caught off guard, wondering how he knew they were living alone, but Tate answered.

"We're roommates. Splitting the rent and stuff. And because of the reputation, it was pretty cheap as far as houses go. We were sort of hoping to get some ghost action too. I mean, how cool is it to live in a haunted house, y'know?" Jack and Hillary stared at him. He looked back and shrugged his shoulders, not enough to be noticeable, but good enough to get the point across to the two.

"Well, you'd know all about paranormal activity, wouldn't you, Tate?" Charles asked. The three stared at each other, not sure how to answer. Instead, Erik gripped Charles' leg and dug his nails into it, continuing to smile at the teens.

"So, what's your guys' relationship, if you don't mind me asking?" Asked Jack, trying to fill the quiet.

"We're partners. Moved to California so we could get married, adopt, et cetera." Said Erik.

"We have a son, Pietro. He's seventeen now, actually. I'm sure he'd love to meet you all." Charles articulated.

"Oh, that's so nice!" Hillary said. "We'd love to meet your son, too." Jack wondered if he was the same person they had seen earlier in the day.

"...Well, should we try some of that cake?" Charles asked. The other four all vocalized their agreement in the suggestion, getting up from the couch. They walked into the kitchen, but the only evidence left of the baked good was a few crumbs and a smear of icing. Jack turned to Tate.

"What the hell, man?" They mouthed to him.

"Don't look at me!" He mouthed back, using his hands to pronounce his point. They looked back to the two men.

"Gosh, what happened?" Hillary spoke.

"Not what," Charles stated. "But who." Erik stared at him.

"Who happened? That's not grammatically correct, you know."

"It sounded a lot better in my head, okay?"

"For a teacher, you should really know this."

"You're not being very supportive right now."

"Charles, all I'm trying to say is that maybe you should try to exercise your grammar."

"You know Erik, I-" Charles was stopped when a voice from behind the five cut in.

"I gotta say, that was a really great cake." They all turned around to find the same silver haired teenager Jack had seen earlier. He sucked on one of his fingers, released it with a pop, and winked at Tate. He wrinkled his nose at him and held onto Hillary's hand. He looked over to the girl. "I don't know why you're hanging out with this nerd here, but if you ever want to try for a real man-" Hillary immediately cut him off.

"Yeah, like I'd go for someone with grandpa hair."

"Oh, sassy!" He looked back to Charles and Erik. "I like her!"

"He turned down to the youngest of the bunch, then burst into a grin. "I know you!" He smiled. "You were watching me build the garden shed, you little stalker!" Jack stuttered and turned red.

"I wasn't- I didn't- I mean, I, just-... Well-"

"Shh." They stayed quiet. He bent down to be on eye level with them, which made Jack want to punch him right in the face. "You like me, huh?" They gasped and were about to go off on a tangent, but Charles interrupted.

"Good luck with that. They're pretty gay. I mean, they're all relatively gay in some way. Jack especially though."

"Excuse me?!" Jack raised their voice.

"Oh, awkward. I'm out!" Pietro was there, and in a second, he was gone, only leaving a gust of wind behind.

"What's going on?!" Hillary shouted.

"I haven't been completely honest with all of you- we, er, have special abilities that set us apart from your race. Mutations! A completely normal thing that sometimes happens to the human genome, and is nothing more than just a little glitch. Pietro, as you might've guessed, can run superhumanly fast. Purely coincidence he ended up being a mutant. Moving on, I read minds, and Erik here manipulates metal." He explained, trying to remain as calm as possible. "It makes us practically no different from any of you-" Erik abruptly cut him off.

"Then why are we Homo Superior, Mr. no-different-from-any-of-you!"

"You coined that term yourself."

"We are the better man!"

"Erik, please. Don't do this. Not with the neighbors here."

"MUTANT SUPERIORITY."

"EQUALITY, ERIK. EQUALITY." Tate, Jack, and Hillary all stared at each other, uncomfortable and confused. They all slowly walked backwards out of the kitchen and made their way towards the front door as the other two continued to argue. However, before they could make their sneaky getaway, the door locked shut. They turned back to the kitchen to find Erik holding up his hand, an almost murderous look in his eyes.

"No." He whispered. Suddenly, the door to the kitchen slammed shut. Pietro stood next to it, leaning back and propping his foot against the wall.

"Yes!" He said back, in response to his father. "Now get out of here before Dad goes on a rampage." The teen ran to the front door and held it open for the team. The group walked out and broke into a run, going back to their haven. They sprinted through the gates, into the house, and slammed the door shut. They held their backs against the opening, breathing heavily.

"So," Jack started. "A mind reader, a mutant elitist, and a teenager with grandpa hair, as Hillary so nicely put it."

"They seem nice." She said, breaking tension.

"If one of them didn't want to kill us." Tate added.

"You're already dead, butthole. You have nothing to worry about." The youngest spoke, rolling their eyes. The three got up off the door and walked into the kitchen, where the chocolate cake still laid.

"Do we even bother going to the next neighbors house? I mean, if they're anything like the mutants next door..." The boy started.

"Yes, we do bother, tater tot." Hillary said. "They could be very nice and maybe even normal." She scooped up the cake. "Come on. They can't be awful!"


	4. Chapter 4

The house didn't look too out of place on the street. It was two stories, a little dilapidated in some places, but otherwise in good shape. As the three walked closer to the door, a faint sound of a rhythmic "Ooga-chaka, ooga-chaka, ooga-ooga-ooga-chaka" chant could be heard. The three nervously looked at each other, afraid of walking into a cult situation. However, the song "Hooked on a Feeling" quickly came out of that, and the three sighed in relief. After the visit with the mutants next door, the normality of the music was more than welcome. They got to the porch where Tate rung the doorbell. They heard the sound of slow, loud pounding on the floor. When the door opened, they were greeted by a very tall, wooden creature. They had to bend down to even be seen in the doorframe. They waved a large hand, a spoke in a very deep voice.

"I am Groot!" Suddenly, rushed footsteps were heard throughout the house. The three turned to look in to find a human wearing a Blue Öyster Cult tee shirt, jeans, and boots that seemed out of this world.

"Groot, don't!" He yelled. Groot turned away from the door. The man got Groot out of the threshold and stood, trying to cooly play off what just happened. He immediately noticed the baked good Hillary was holding.

"Aw, sick! Cake!" He took the cake from her hands and looked back to the group. "It's not poisoned or anything, is it?" He laughed at his own joke and the group chuckled along. "I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Quill. Better known as Starlord." He added a flourish with his free hand at the last word. The group looked around at each other, confused.

"Starlord?" Tate asked. Peter looked pretty disappointed.

"Starlord, man. Outlaw of the universe. One out of five guardians of the galaxy? C'mon dude." He sighed heavily. "Whatever. You brought cake so you oughta come in!" He said, attitude quickly changing. He waved the group in, and in they went. They walked down the hall and to the left, where they came into the kitchen. Peter set the cake down and leaned against the counter while the trio settled themselves on three out of five barstools. "So, where are you guys living?" He asked, getting out paper plates.

"We're over in Murderhouse." Hillary responded.

"Shit, Murderhouse?" Peter asked, breathless. "How are you guys not dead yet?" Jack eyed Tate for a moment.

"For all the hype it gets, we haven't had too many spooky occurrences." Jack said.

"You know about the last tenants?" Starlord started, cutting a piece of cake. "They ran out screaming after the first night because they saw the ghost of Tate Langdon, y'know, the school shooter? They thought he was coming to get them too. They also had some story about this pig-human baby hybrid thing, and some guy in a rubber dominatrix suit? Crazy shit went on down there." He placed a piece of the good on a plate. "Oh, vanilla! Sweet!" He passed it over to Tate, who looked pale. "You okay, bro?" He swallowed and nodded his head.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Do you have a fork or something?"

"Oh, shit! Yeah, duh!" Peter turned around to get the utensil, while the three had a quick, whispering conversation.

"Why didn't you tell us about this?!" Jack hissed.

"I didn't have the time!" Tate murmured back.

"Seriously man, we've had all morning. Is there anything else we should know about?" Hillary whispered.

"Okay, there's been a few things, but I'll tell you them at the house."

"Tate, we can't have roommates going around and scaring people out of Murderhouse." Jack spoke softly.

"Yeah, but you can understand how fun it is, right?" Tate smiled.

"No, I can't, because I'm not fucking dead, Langdon! I'll have you know-" Peter turned around holding forks. The three all turned back to their spots at the counter, smiling uncomfortably.

"I... Got... Forks... Am I interrupting something?" He asked.

"Nope!" Hillary said through her teeth. Peter happily shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay!" He gave the three each a fork, cut out pieces of cake for them, and finally, one for himself. They sat down and ate a few bites. Starlord suddenly dropped his fork with a loud clatter on the counter, and looked up at the group. "Oh my god, I've been so rude. What are your names?" He bumped his head with his palm. "God, duh!" He looked to Jack first.

"I'm Jack." They said, wiping cake from their mouth.

"Hillary!" She responded. Peter looked over to Tate with a smile. He still looked pretty pale.

"...Tate." Peter's looked quickly changed into one of suspicion.

"Huh. It's funny, you sort of look like that Tate Langdon guy." Tate trembled in his stool. "What's your last name, Tate?"

"Peters!" He said a little too quickly. "Like, uh, Evan. Evan Peters. We're twins, actually. People say I look like him and I'm all like, 'Oh, it's because we're twins!' and they're all like, 'I didn't know Evan Peters had a sibling, I thought he was an only child.' and then I'm all like, 'What? I need to talk to ol' Evan about that.'. He's always playing these pranks, like, y'know, erasing me from existence or something, but nope! I'm his twin! We're twins! I'm Tate Peters!" Tate finished with a very uncomfortable, forced smile. He was obviously sweating as Peter Quill gave him a very skeptical look.

"Cool!" He said with a smile. The teenager sighed in relief. They all sat for a while, enjoying their cake, until Jack broke the silence.

"So, uh, can I ask about the plant-person-thing?" They asked.

"Oh, yeah!" Peter said. "That's Groot. They like to answer the door. Usually they catch people off guard, so that's why I rushed. But they're a cool dude! All they can say is 'I am Groot' though. Rocket can understand them better, so he's usually our translator."

"Rocket?" Hillary repeated. In that instant, a raccoon wearing a red jumpsuit jumped up onto the counter.

"Rocket! You don't just jump up onto the counter like that, like some animal." Peter scolded.

"I am an animal, asshat." Rocket responded. Tate comedically jumped into Hillary's arms, and Hillary, having the strength of ten thousand men, held him up with no problem. "What, never seen a talking raccoon before?"

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU PUT IN THE CAKE." Jack screamed at Tate.

"I DIDN'T PUT SHIT IN THE CAKE, NERDO." Tate responded.

"WHY IS EVERYONE YELLING?" Shouted another voice. The owner of said voice walked into the room. A woman with green skin, strange markings on her face, and wearing a red trim leather outfit walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Gamora!" Said Peter happily.

"Hey Pete." Gamora responded. "Who are these dorks?"

"The new neigh-bros, Hillary, Jack, and Tate. They're cool. They brought cake."

"Ah. Hello, Hillary, Jack and Tate." She walked over to the counter to cut herself a slice. "Have you ever seen Footloose?" The three thought it was a bit of a random question. Tate and Jack shook their head 'no'.

"Yeah, actually!" Said Hillary.

"Do you know who put the sticks up those peoples' butts?" Asked Gamora, taking a bite of cake. She shook her head no.

"Sticks up butts?" Said another, much deeper voice. A steel-blue skinned man who wore nothing but red pants and had dark red tattoos all over walked into the room. "That's cruel." Gamora nodded her head enthusiastically while Peter put his head into his hands.

"You guys, no. It's an expression. There's not actually sticks in their butts." She ignored Quill and turned back to Hillary.

"Drax and I love Footloose. Kevin Bacon is a god!"

"When did Kevin Bacon become a god?" Drax asked. Gamora continued to ignore him.

"He has a bit of a problem with metaphors. They go so far over his head a ladder couldn't even help him."

"I do not need a ladder for anything. I am very tall. And very strong."

"You're not that tall, bud. I think Hillary here is taller than you." Drax slammed his fits on the counter, making multiple cracks in it.

"That is unacceptable!" He bellowed.

"DUDE. This is the third time this month. Counter replacements are hella expensive." Peter said to him sharply. He slid his fists off of the counter.

"I'm deeply sorry."

"Yeah, okay. You say that every time. When our guests leave, call the granite guy." He turned back to the three. "He's starting to give us a friends and family discount for calling him so many times." Jack and Tate stared at the cast before them. It was certainly an odd assortment.

"So... Is this everyone?" Jack asked hesitantly. A loud pounding echoed through the halls of the house and into the kitchen, when Groot appeared through the doorway.

"I am Groot!" They said.

"Ah. Now that's everyone." Tate responded, answering Jack. Hillary and Gamora carried on their conversation about Footloose, Drax adding it at times saying, "I enjoyed that part!", "Humans can rhythmically move their feet very well!", or sometimes singing parts of songs. Peter, Rocket, and Groot stuck around with Jack and Tate.

"We're all sort of ragtags from around the universe." Peter began. "We actually all met in prison! But, y'know, we got along okay with each other, took down this bad guy Ronan together, and ever since we've been traveling space, sorta protecting it. That's why we're, wait for it, the Guardians of the Galaxy!" Peter added a flourish of his hands at the end. Groot clapped politely.

"So, what are you guys doing in L.A?" Jack asked.

"Eh, it's nice. We're spending a little vacation time, y'know? Plus, the babes, amiright?" Rocket responded. Jack and Tate nodded in agreement. Babes. "We spend ten months out of an Earth year making sure nothing too bad happens to space. We need some break, yeah? So we buy this old frat house in California, spend two months here, and after that, head on back to infinity and beyond, or whatever."

"Well that's definitely more interesting than a desk job." Jack laughed at their own joke while the others sat in silence.

"What's a desk job?" Peter asked.

"Wh-... Nevermind." Jack said.

"I am Groot!" Remarked Groot.

"...Anyway, you guys are taking the whole 'our-neighbors-are-aliens' thing pretty well." Peter told the two.

"Living in a haunted house and having the guys next door be mutants, the shock kind of wears off." Jack responded, taking a large bite of cake.

"God, what is in the water? You'd think it'd be pretty out of the ordinary to have paranormality, mutants, and aliens living on the same block." Rocket said.

"It's L.A. What do you expect?" Tate replied. "Anyway, we oughta get going, but it was really cool to meet all of you."

"I am Groot!" Added Groot.

"Especially Groot." Jack laughed. Groot smiled. Tate and Jack turned back to Hillary, Gamora, and Drax. The three were singing and performing the last dance number of Footloose, laughing and stumbling along. Drax spun Hillary over into Tate's arms. She smiled up at him, and turned to Jack.

"I need to show you guys Footloose." She said, nearly out of breath. She got herself up from the ghost. "But yeah! Nice to meet you guys!" She held out her hand to Peter, who shook it, then Rocket, Groot, Gamora, and Drax. Tate and Jack followed. The five showed them out while they waved goodbye and made their way back to the house. "We need to have them over sometime!" She said.

"They certainly are interesting." Tate added. Jack nodded their head, but while walking, they turned to the other side of the street.

"Shit."

"What?" Hillary asked.

"We didn't make a cake for the house across the street." They pointed to the house- mansion, rather. An elegant, four story, white house with black trim around the windows and door and a black roof laid in front of the group. It looked straight out of the 1700s, but was obviously very well kept.

"Woah." Tate breathed. "How have we never seen that before?" Jack shrugged their shoulders.

"I guess we'll invite them over sometime." Hillary said plainly. They continued walking to the house, then got in and shut the door. Meanwhile, in the white and black mansion across the way, an older woman watched the trio through the window. Another woman came up behind her.

"You know I don't like it when you spy on the neighbors, Mother." She said.

"There's bad juju in that house." The older woman responded.

"Mom-"

"They hang around that ghost boy, too. Do they know he's dead? They have to know, don't they."

"Mother!"

"They look so young, all of them. Where are their parents?"

"Please, stop spying on them!" The younger woman closed the curtain the older one was looking through. She looked up at her, giving her a very discouraging look, then stormed off. However, she herself could not resist the temptation to look through at the new neighbors. She opened the curtain once more, looking at the teenagers. "Stay safe, young ones." She whispered. "There's always a place for you at the academy." She closed the drapes and walked away from the window.


	5. Chapter 5

That night at Murderhouse was spent watching Footloose. They popped popcorn, put on their pajamas, and spent "quality roommate bonding time", as Jack called it. By the end of it, the three sang and danced along as loudly as they could, embracing the corniness of it. After that, they put on a few more cheesy musicals, but by three in the morning, they were all knocked out on the couch, wrapped in blankets, entangled in pillows, and awkwardly lying on each other. The three could all agree though- it was a really fun night, and a great end to an exciting day.

Tate woke up first at one in the afternoon. Hillary was snuggled into his chest, sleeping soundly. Her arm wrapped around his side while his own was draped across her back. He noted how angelic she looked while brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. He kissed her forehead lightly, not wanting to wake her. He turned down to his thigh, where Jack was gracelessly sprawled out, one arm hooked around his leg, the other bent maladroit on their back. Their feet hung off the couch, their hair in a mat, and to top it off, they were drooling on his pants. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at how opposite the two slept. He poked them.

"Dude." He said, jamming his finger into their arm. "Wake up, man. You're getting spit on my jeans." They stayed asleep. "Jack! Bro, uncool. These are great pants." He said a little more insistently. The teen made a whining sound, elbowed Tate in the ribs, then grabbed more blanket, cuddling up in it. In pain, he pushed the other off the couch, landing with a loud _"THUD"_. They got up, still wrapped in the blanket, and looked the teenager in the eye with the most murderous look they could muster.

"Not okay, man. Not okay." They walked over to the kitchen and began to rummage through for something to eat. He watched as they stormed off, and turned back to Hillary. She began to stir, yawned, then stretched her arms over her head, accidentally punching Tate in the jaw. She gasped and retracted her hands to her mouth, sitting up instantaneously.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" She panicked. She rubbed his jaw, asking if he was okay and continuing to spout apologies. He sighed and held his chin.

"I'm fine, don't worry." He said. "I'm already dead. Not much else can hurt me." They both chuckled. Hillary snuggled back into his side, holding him close.

"Still." She kissed his chin. "Now it's all better!" Tate laughed and pulled her into him. They sat in the quiet, enjoying the embrace of each other. However, their relaxation was short lived when Jack popped their head out from the kitchen.

"I hate to interrupt," They started. "but there's some creepy guys dressed in black in our front yard." Hillary and Tate turned to each other, then got up off the couch, alarmed. The three all walked to the outside window, where five people shrouded in cloaks looked blankly in the direction of the house.

"Should we see what's going on?" Tate suggested. They all turned to each other apprehensively.

"Nose-goes!" Jack shouted, placing their index finger on their nose. Tate followed, with Hillary close behind. When she saw she was the last one, she dropped her arms in exasperation.

"Ah, fuck." She breathed.

"Babe, you don't have to go." Tate said, holding her shoulders.

"It's okay, tater-tot. I got this." Hillary grabbed a baseball bat that was conveniently in one of the moving boxes on the floor.

"That's really convenient." Noted Jack.

"I know, right?" Hillary said back. She swung it over her shoulder and marched out to the front with full gusto, despite still being in her plaid pajama pants and still looking like she just woke up. She opened the door and strolled out. She turned back to Tate and Jack, who were looking through the window in anticipation. She gave them a thumbs-up, then put her attention back on the cloak-wearers. She stood her ground, put her free hand on her hip, and summed up the group. "Alright." She announced. "You guys are kinda freaking out my roommates. You're kinda freaking me out too. The whole not showing your face thing and being dressed in black shrouds despite it being summer in California is starting to get to me a bit. Not to mention, you are technically trespassing. So, I don't know, if you don't have a good reason for being here," She nudged her bat at the middle one in the group. "Get out." There was a long silence, until one of the figures on the far left spoke up.

"Damn!" They mused. "She's got sass! I like her!"

"Shut up, Queenie! This is supposed to be an anonymous thing." Said the other that was next to them.

"Listen up, Bratz doll, nobody was sayin' shit. The hell we supposed to do, just ominously stare at the house? We've been doing that since eleven in the morning."

"Wait." Hillary remarked. "You've been waiting for one of us to come out of the house since eleven?"

"Hell yeah!" Queenie took off the top of her cloak, revealing herself to Hillary. All the others moaned in annoyance and took off the tops of their cloaks as well.

"Damn it!" Yelled "Bratz doll", throwing her hood to the ground. "I will fucking cut you back at the house."

"Just try, bitch. Nothing hurts me."

"Ladies, please." Said the one in the middle. She took off her head covering, draping it elegantly over her shoulders. She was obviously older than the rest of the girls, but was still drop-dead gorgeous. Curled blonde hair hung at her shoulders, outlining her flawless face. "We want to speak with the blonde boy you were with yesterday. He lives here, doesn't he?" Hillary lowered her baseball bat and leaned against it, trying to keep her cool. Inside, she was practically trembling, but she wouldn't let these women know.

"I don't even know you. How would you know who lives here?" The woman leaned close into her face.

"We know things, darling. Just let us talk to him for a minute." She smiled, but it was anything but warm and friendly. Hillary exhaled, her breath coming out shakily.

"Gimme a minute." She turned around and stalked back into the house. Once she was in and shut the door, she ran into the kitchen, where she found Jack watching intently and Tate hiding underneath a table. She dropped her rough-n-tough persona, showing her obvious fear for the safety of the three and their house. "They want to talk to 'the blonde boy'." She looked over to Tate. He was shaking in absolute fear, the table shifting slightly with him.

"Oh my god, I can't go out there. I can't do that." He clasped his hands to the sides of his head. "Do you know who they are? Do you know what they're gonna do to me?"

"I don't, actually." Tate got up from the table and held onto his girlfriend, tears coming down his face.

"They're witches, Hillary!"

"How does that not surprise me." Jack added. Tate ignored them and continued.

"They're gonna exorcise me or banish me to hell or do voodoo or worse!" He was bawling at this point, clutching her as if she was a lifeline. She rubbed his back in an attempt to soothe him. "I don't want to go." Jack looked on the scene in front of them, and quickly hatched a plan. They began to run to their bedroom, but was stopped by Hillary.

"Where are you going?" She asked, more in concern than anything.

"I've got an idea!" They responded, an almost giddy look spread across their face. They sprinted to their bedroom, put on a chest binder, some baggy jeans, shoes, brushed their hair, messed it up a bit, then did last-minute contouring on their cheekbones and forehead. It would pass for now. They ran back into the kitchen. "Tate," They started. "Gimme your sweater."

"What?" He replied, pulling away from Hillary's embrace.

"Just give me it!" He pulled off his sweater and handed it to Jack. They quickly pulled it over their head. While it was almost comedically large, they assumed it would work for the situation. "Do you think I'm blonde enough to be him?"

"I mean- your hair's more white than anything. Bleach-blonde, maybe. But, dude, what are you doing?" Hillary asked. Jack made their way to the front door.

"One of the perks of being genderfluid." They said. "I can be anyone!" They opened the door, walked out in their most manly gait, and shut it. She ran for the door, shouting.

"Jack! Don't!" She watched them walk toward the witches through the peephole of the door. "Agh, fuck!" She stalked back to the kitchen, grabbed her bat, and turned to Tate.

"You stay under the table. Don't let them know you're here- as far as their concerned, it's just me and... Tate, living here." He nodded and went back under the table. She picked up her baseball bat and stormed off to the door, opened it, and joined Jack outside.

They walked to the five witches, trying to be as Tate-esque as possible. They faced the one in the middle. She looked down at them as she would a squished bug.

"Are you the blonde boy?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm blonde, and I'm a boy, and I seem to be the only one of those living in this house!" Jack said in a lower octave. They silently thanked their years of acting classes to know how to pull off a believable deep voice.

"So then, you're _the_ Tate Langdon."

"Tate _Langdon_? The school shooter? Didn't he die in, like, 1996? No, no no no. I'm Tate _Peters_. I'm renting out the place with my... Girl... friend." They swallowed uneasily. Hillary then joined them. "Ah, yes! Hello, girlfriend! How is my favorite friend, who is also a girl? I love my girlfriend!" They smiled widely at their roommate, trying to motion for her to play along. Luckily, she got the memo.

"Ah, boyfriend! I am well, boyfriend! These ladies just wanted to talk to you, friend who is very obviously a boy! I love you too, boyfriend!" They embraced each other and laughed awkwardly. The five looked at them, confused.

"They're lying, both of them. Tate Langdon is still in the house. He's underneath the kitchen table." Said the girl to the far right.

"Very good, Nan. It's quite a gift you have." Replied the woman in the middle.

"Thank you, Fiona." Said Nan.

"You don't need clairvoyance to see through that shit acting." The girl to the left crossed her arms.

"Shut up, Madison." Said the girl to the right of the middle one.

"Shut up, Zoë." Responded Madison.

"Girls!" Shouted Fiona. They immediately ceased bickering. "Why don't we just go get him?" They all nodded and headed to the door. Hillary and Jack stood back to back. She held out her baseball bat in a very threatening manner and the other held out their hands in a kung-fu like position, despite not knowing any kung-fu.

"Because we're not gonna let you do that!" Yelled Hillary. Fiona rolled her eyes.

"Take care of these two. I'll get ghost boy." She waved her hand and the two were flung backwards, slamming into the side of the house. They slid down while the woman walked in through the front door. The other girls surrounded them menacingly. Hillary and Jack looked to each other, nodded, and jumped up.

Hillary took on Zoë and Nan while Jack would handle Madison and Queenie. She swung her baseball in a half circle, keeping the two girls away from her. She sprung eight feet into the air, did a flip, then landed on her feet, her free knuckle slamming into the ground, creating a small crater in it's place. She looked up and turned around, facing her two attackers. She then turned to Jack momentarily.

"Bruh! Did you see that?!" She shouted.

"BRUH." Jack repeated. Hillary turned her attention back on the two. She sprinted towards them. She aimed her bat to Madison and swung with as much force as she could exert. Madison ducked, but the bat hit Nan instead. She gripped the side of her head and feel to her knees, screaming. She dropped the bat and brought her hands up to her mouth, gasping.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asked. Nan turned up, but looked to Madison, who swung her leg around Hillary's, knocking her down onto the lawn. Nan threw a kick into Hillary's side. She gripped her ribs, but that wasn't going to stop her. She quickly got back up, grabbing her baseball bat. She swung another time, hitting Madison directly in the torso. She screamed as the bat cracked. The witch decided she wasn't playing nice anymore. She threw a punch at the girl, delivering a swift cleft to the face. Hillary clutched her nose, feeling a trickle of blood coming from it. She stared savagely at the girl, who crossed her arms and tilted her head, waiting for something to happen. She dropped the bat and tackled Madison to the ground, scratching, punching, biting, screaming. Nan stood on the side, calling out the attacks the girl was going to make next so her fellow witch could dodge them as best she could. Hillary got a few good hits it, enough to do some damage, but she fought back, and fought hard. Madison kicked her off, sending her to side of her and knocking the wind out of her. She climbed on top of her and started to use her as a personal punching bag. Bruises formed and gashes were made, but the two kept at it. Hillary eventually pushed Madison off, but the sorceress had other plans. She landed on her feet, and with a wave of her hand, Hillary began to lift up. She raised higher and higher off the ground until her feet were hanging at the girls' eye level.

"You fucked up my face, bitch." Madison said barbarously. "Why do you even want to protect him anyway? He killed people. He's a psychopath. Is that kinky to you? Are you as crazy as him?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nan retorted. "She has feelings for him." Hillary struggled against the levitation. "Oh yeah. She really likes him."

"Oh, honey, you never fall in love with a dead boy. That's just common sense."

Meanwhile, Jack was starting to get cornered by Zoë and Queenie. However, they quickly formulated a plan. With Tate's huge sweater flapping in the wind, they ran up the side of the wall, kicked off it, flipped, and kicked Zoë in the back of the head. They landed expertly as if they had done it billions of times before. Zoë stumbled a second, then fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Oh." Jack said, pleasantly surprised. "That was easy."

"Aw, hell no!" Queenie shouted. She then punched herself in the face. Jack didn't have time to laugh before they felt the force of exactly what the witch did. They staggered for a moment.

"What the hell?"

"I'm a human voodoo doll, bitch!" Suddenly, Jack's look turned very dark. They huffed, and sprinted towards Queenie.

"USE GENDER NEUTRAL INSULTS AROUND ME, ASSHAT." They jumped and delivered a clean upper-cut straight into the girl's jaw. That only fueled her own rage more. She began to punch herself in the ribs while Jack took the beating. They jumped at every hit, feeling the pain and force she was putting into each strike. Despite that, the teen ran toward the witch and gave her a hard kick in the gut. Queenie stumbled, then quickly decided voodoo wasn't going to be enough. She ran back into Jack, body-slamming them with a force strong enough to send them falling to the ground. They got back up, however, and held out their fists.

"You and me. Clean fight. No magic, no cheap shots. Deal?" They said, trying to negotiate.

"No deal." Queenie replied. Jack shrugged their shoulders and ran towards the girl, screaming a war cry that'd make their ancestors proud, or deaf. They charged, but were stopped instantly when Tate's sweater caught fire. They screamed, heat searing their skin. They tried to slap out the fire, but it only continued to envelope their torso and burn. They threw off the sweater, scorch marks developing on them. They started to regret only having their tank top/binder on underneath- another layer would have protected them better, but who could've prepared for that? Queenie looked shocked, however. She turned around to face Zoë, her hands up and a smirk on her face.

"You're welcome." She commented. The other witch was almost offended.

"Bitch, I can handle this." She immediately punched the youngest teenager, sending them staggering and clutching their jaw.

"What the hell, man?!" They shouted. "I have braces!" They spit out some blood. "Ew." Jack wiped their mouth and gave the girl a clean kick in the chest. Their arms still hurt like nobody's business, so they didn't want to use them too much. Queenie made her next move. She took off her belt, wrapped it around her neck, and began to pull tight. Jack quickly began to panic, struggling at the strangulation, trying to gain breath. She only crushed her own neck harder. They couldn't make a sound as their face turned a pale blue, loosing oxygen. They turned to their roommate, hovering about five feet in the air. Hillary turned to look at Jack. They were both loosing the battle. Maybe this was it. While the guilt of not protecting the house settled uneasily on both of their shoulders, it made things a little more alright to die by the side of a friend.

But then, swiftly, everything slowed to a complete stop. Not a thing moved, no sound was produced, absolutely nothing. Except Hillary. She still continued to struggle against being held up. However, her grappling stopped when a familiar English voice broke the silence.

"Hello!" It spoke. She gasped.

"Mr. Xaiver?"

"Please, just Charles. Pretty groovy, having a telepath for a neighbor, eh?"

"What are you doing?!"

"Helping! Weren't you wondering why you were able to fight at such a skillful level?"

"O-Oh." Hillary said, a little disappointed. She had hoped it was the spirit of war running through them.

"Anyway, it's getting a little difficult for me to control both of you. I'm sending over Pietro and your space-traveling neighbors. They should prove to be of help to you both. I'll try to do as much as I can to help out you two, but don't depend on me."

"I don't know how to thank you, sir."

"Don't! Your neighbors are mutants, aliens, and witches. This kind of thing isn't out of the ordinary for us. And good luck out there! Expect backup in a few moments!"

"Really, thank you so much, Charles."

"Oh, hush. Now fight the good fight!" Everything unfroze abruptly. Jack was still loosing breath and Hillary was still suspended uncomfortably. The younger teen dropped on their knees, silently gasping for air. Madison and Nan continued to plot what to do with the levitating girl. That all changed in a moment when a silver flash raced through the lawn, mowing down the witches. The flare ran through Nan, Zoë, Madison, and Queenie, causing them to topple over. Hillary fell to the ground along with them while Jack got onto their hands, getting the breath they had lost. They suddenly felt themselves get picked up. They turned to see who grabbed them, who was none other than Pietro Maximoff himself.

"Hey babe!" He said. Jack didn't have the breath to retort, so they instead rolled their eyes and leaned their head against his chest. They winced, adjusting their arms so that they weren't rubbing against anything. He grinned, ran them to his yard, and propped them up underneath a tree. He looked down, inspecting them. He noticed the burn marks. "Ah, shit. What happened?" He asked in concern. He picked up their arm, trying to examine it, but Jack gasped in pain. He let go of it while they retracted.

"The sweater just, caught fire... I don't- It was one of the witches, I just..." Pietro stopped them.

"Gimme a second, okay?" He rushed around the yard, the backyard, and the garage in a second. He ran back with a large bucket, sloshing with water. "You can put your arms in that. It might help." Jack immediately dunked their arms in. They shouted in agony, steam rising from the bucket. In the long run, they knew the water would do good, but they couldn't handle it for too long. Pietro sighed sadly. He reached out for the other's cheek, cupping it in his hand. "Stay here, okay? Get your breath back, try to recover- I don't think the girls are gonna come over here. I'll go aid Hillary and keep them off, alright?"

"I need to help her!" They said, they tried to get up, but they started coughing hard. Pietro pushed them back against the tree lightly.

"You nearly died, Jack. Please, just, stay here. For me." He pleaded. They considered the request, but gave in by a nod of the head.

"Keep Hillary safe. For me." They said back, repeating his last message. He smiled, getting up on his feet. "I will. Promise!" He held out his pinkie for the other to take. They wrapped their own pinkie around his, shook for a moment, and let go. He took off for the yard, hopping the fence in a flash. Jack shook their head and smiled, trusting Pietro.

Hillary didn't have a chance to get to her feet before being pulled up onto them. The speedster stood by her side, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

"'Sup!" He said.

"Oh, y'know, just trying to protect our lives from witches who want to kill everyone living in this house, including the already dead ones." She responded in a sarcastic tone. "I've still got a nose bleed, too."

"Sounds fascinating. Lemme help!" Pietro rushed around the yard like a pinball, throwing himself against the girls. Zoë, Nan and Queenie screamed as he hit them, but Madison had other plans. She lifted him up in the same fashion she had done with Hillary. He tried to get himself back down on the ground, but in vain, as the suspension wasn't letting up anytime soon. "Is that just your thing?" He asked. "Picking people up? Kind of a crap power if you ask me." Madison ignored him, but spun him around at a high velocity. When he slowed down, she started to talk.

"Look at this little dweeb. Thinks he can take us on." She walked closer to him, then pulled him down by the lapels of his jacket so they were at eye level. "You underestimated us immensely, mutant scum." She stared at him with daggers in her eyes, looking like she was ready to kill. A tree in the yard was set on fire as she continued to glare at him. That was, until they were all interrupted by Joan Jett blasting on an oversized boombox. The six turned to face five others, clad in red leather suits. Peter, Gamora, Drax, Rocket, and Groot walked onto the lawn. They all crossed their arms, except Groot, who held the stereo on their shoulder. The fire immediately extinguished.

"We heard a few witch-bitches were attacking our friends." Shouted Gamora.

"Who the hell are these freaks?" Madison said.

"Who are we?" Peter started. "We're the Guardians of the Galaxy, turd blossom. And nobody messes with people who bring us cake." Gamora elbowed him in the side. "Ow! I-I mean, our friends!" Madison laughed mockingly and let go of Pietro. He shifted his arms around to try to stabilize himself.

"Oh yeah? And what's you, this green skinned chick, tattoo emporium, plant man and... A raccoon, gonna do?"

"I-Is she referring to me when she says 'tattoo emporium'?" Drax asked Gamora. She nodded. "I am not an inking parlor!" He shouted. He was about to charge her when Rocket interrupted him by pulling out a futuristic gun from the sling on his back, aiming it at the witch, and firing away. She was shot back, slamming into the side of the house. Pietro dropped without Madison's concentration, but after that, all hell broke loose.

_"C-C-C-C-C-C-CHERRY BOMB!" _Joan Jett sung as the war raged on. Groot and Rocket punched and shot at as many girls as they could. Peter and Gamora teamed up back to back to kick and fire weapons toward the witches. Drax spun Hillary around on his back as she circle-kicked her way through the crowd. Pietro continued doing his pinball technique. The fight waged for a while until Fiona walked out of the house, holding Tate by the collar of his shirt. The fighting and music ceased at once, the silence eerie. He had a cut lip, a black eye was forming, and he walked with the stature of a kicked dog. She guided him out the door, everyone watching her.

"We got him, girls! We're done here. Thanks for your time." She began to walk out, the other girls following. Peter held up his hands as if to say, _What the hell, we just got here._ They were just about to exit the yard when a fuming woman came storming across the street. Her hair was straight and blonde, but wore a white button-down shirt and black pants instead of all black like the others. "Oh, shit." Fiona uttered.

"What the hell is going on here?!" She screamed at Fiona. She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.

"Why, Cordelia, baby, just a little field trip. For the girls. To learn... Stuff." The older woman responded.

"Is this what you call a field trip?! You invade the neighbor's house, attempt a kidnapping, hurt them physically, and probably mentally and emotionally! Now, here we are, engaging in World War 3, right here. Incredible." Cordelia leaned in close to the woman. "If this is what you call learning, you are truly unfit to be the Supreme. Now you let this boy go, and you apologize."

"Darlin', what you don't understand is that he's a ghost! Not a good one either. Tate Langdon, the psychopath? Shot up fifteen people at the school?"

"I knew it!" Shouted Peter. Everyone turned to him, somewhat in shock. "I mean... I knew he was Langdon. H-He said he was related to Evan Peters, but-" Gamora elbowed him in the ribs.

"Stop talking."

"Okay."

"Anyway," Fiona continued. "We were just gonna learn how to do a little spirit work. Nothing terrible."

"I don't care, Mother! You can't just kidnap someone for a lesson, much less harm them, for Christ's sake. If the tenants want to keep this kid around, let them! Have you considered that maybe they don't mind that he's here?! You're not doing anyone any favors." She turned to Tate. "Are you alright?" He nodded, wiping away some of the blood. "Good. But if I here of any haunting business going on, or you hurting anyone, especially your fine roommates, who did everything in their power to protect you, I'm gonna send Fiona back, and there will be no help for you." He nodded again. She turned back to the group. "Girls, with me. We're spending the rest of the day cleaning the house, no powers, no magic allowed." The girls groaned, but solemnly walked back to the other side of the street. Amazingly, they were able to walk and act as if the battle hadn't even happened.

"Now what?" Asked Rocket.

"Now," Began Hillary. "I thank you all so much for your help. Who knows where we'd be if you all hadn't stepped in. I can't express my gratitude enough."

"It is no problem, tiny human girl!" Drax said. He put a large hand on her head and ruffled her hair up.

"Seriously, what Drax said." Peter added. "We're guardians, man! It's our job!"

"Yeah. I mean, technically it's kind of my job to protect people, too." Pietro stated.

"Well, thank you all so much!" Hillary said.

"Don't sweat it! Take care of your wounds and stuff, though." Peter finished, pointing to his own face to demonstrate the areas that needed care. He and the other guardians walked off back to their house.

"I am Groot!" Said Groot enthusiastically.

"That's right, bud." Peter reassured.

"I guess I oughta get going, too. The dads are gonna want me home pretty soon, I suppose." Pietro shrugged his shoulders.

"Alright. I'll catch ya later then."

"Catch ya later!" He said, speeding off back to his house. Hillary walked over to Tate and enveloped him in a hug. He was staring at his scorched sweater, still sizzling.

"You alright?" She asked.

"Y-Yeah. A little shaken up."

"You and me both."

"Are you okay?"

"Could be better. Nothing some hot chocolate, bandaids and blankets can't solve, hmm?" He nodded his head. Hillary guided him back into the house. However, she stopped on the porch. He turned his head toward her, wondering why she paused. "Wait," she started. "Where's Jack?"


	6. Chapter 6

Pietro was back to the front yard in less than a second. He went directly over to the teenager still propped up against the tree. They looked a little better from the previous attack, getting more color into their face but bruises had started to form around their neck, and the burn marks enveloped their arms.

"How ya holding up?" He asked, kneeling down to be on eye level.

"Alright." Jack said. "Could I get some help up?" He immediately got to their side, carefully getting them on their feet. He held them by their waist, but got them up just fine. The two began to walk out of the yard. Pietro made an extra effort to go slowly, which Jack appreciated. While the house was right next to their own, the walk seemed to take ages. "Um, thank you, for helping us out back there." They rubbed the back of their neck.

"Don't even worry about it. It was fun!" He replied, waving the task off.

"I mean, really though. We would've been toast back there if you hadn't helped out."

"Well, it wasn't all me. The Trekkies next door helped too."

"Excuse you, they're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Pietro laughed at the name while Jack rolled their eyes, but snickered a bit as well. They continued walking back to the house, but about halfway there, they were stopped by a panicked Hillary and Tate running to them. They exited out the gate leading into the yard. Hillary looked around in alarm, but when she saw the two walking back to the house, she took a deep sigh in relief. She jogged towards them, smiling.

"Oh, thank god!" She announced happily. She embraced Jack in a huge hug. They hissed in pain. She immediately retracted and gasped. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!" They nodded.

"Are you? Looks like you got pretty beat up." They replied with concern.

"Ah, yeah. I'm not dead, so that's good."

"Yeah. That's really good."

"Madison has a mean swing, though."

"I can see that." They both laughed. Hillary turned to Pietro.

"Thank you for keeping them safe."

"Really, it was no trouble. I'm glad you all are okay. And you too, big guy!" Pietro playfully punched Tate's arm. Tate stared at him with daggers and he awkwardly retracted his hand, making a very uncomfortable face. He jiggled around on his feet for a few seconds. "So... I'll, uh... See ya guys around, I guess." He waved goodbye and made back for his house.

"He totally likes you." Hillary said to Jack. They turned to her in shock.

"You're such a meme! He does not!" They responded.

"He seems like a nice young man, huh tater-tot?"

"I'm gonna punch him." Tate said, beside himself.

"Don't punch him!?" Jack shouted, confused and afraid. He cracked his knuckles.

"Aw, we're like parents!" The girl remarked, clasping her hands together. Tate screamed at the very notion of it and began to run back into Murderhouse. "Ignore Daddy, he's having a moment."

"Never call him 'Daddy' again."

"I'm your mother. I do what I want." Hillary stared at Jack, straight-faced, but both of them couldn't keep from smirking, then busting out in laughter. The two began to walk back to their house. She playfully gave the teenager a noogie, teasing them about Pietro, while the other teased them about Tate- a good moment to have during their already crazy day. Hillary walked ahead a bit, trying to catch up with her screaming boyfriend. Jack put their hands in their pockets, but felt something in one of them. They pulled out a piece of paper from the pants pouch, opened it up, and couldn't help but chuckle and sigh. On the paper was a phone number, and a "Text me!", followed by a little heart and "P.M."

"_He really is a huge dork."_ That was all Jack could think about the situation.


	7. Chapter 7

The three got bandaged up. Tate took the shortest amount of time- Hillary put a band-aid on his cut lip and gave him a smooch on the cheek. Jack got a metric ton of anti-bacterial cream and gauze up both of their arms, plus an ice-pack for their neck. Both them and Tate treated the girl- after confirming for no signs of concussions or really serious injuries, she got dressing wrapped around her forehead, a few bandaids here and there, a hug from Jack and a few kisses from Tate. When all was done and the three looked like they just walked out of a hospital, they took to their separate ways for a few hours. Some downtime after such an insane experience.

While Jack kept to their room, Tate and Hillary stayed downstairs in the living room. They cuddled together on the couch, watching some trashy reality TV show. However, both of them could sense the awkwardness of the situation. Hillary turned down the volume and turned up to Tate.

"Can I ask you something?" She inquired.

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Why were you so afraid of the witches?" He sighed, then adjusted himself so that they could face each other.

"Well... I mean, once you've been dead for a while, you kinda start to learn what to avoid and what's out there to get you, et cetera. It dates back all the way to Shakespeare's day, that ghosts and witches and warlocks just don't get along. The girls across from us, well, their whole deal is that the grandest witch of them all, they call her the Supreme, is living with them. Well, she's reaching the end of her rope, and a new leader has to be chosen. One of the skills the girls have to learn is bringing people back from the dead. I mean, I'm long gone. There's a snowball's chance in hell I'm gonna be 'alive' anytime soon. I suppose I could come back as a skeleton, that's pretty kinky." He chuckled and Hillary snorted. "But... The thing is, sometimes during the whole 'process', I'll call it, bad spirits try to get into the body the girls try to reanimate. I'm assuming they've already got the body, so they wanted to use me to prepare for that happening." She nodded.

"How do you know all this?"

"You think I'm not gonna notice witches moving in? I had to do a little espionage work, but I did it to protect myself. But now, I've gotta work to protect you too. And Jack."

"Okay... I get that, but... I don't want to be a dick here, but you weren't really doing too much protecting back there. I had to go out there and Jack had to pretend to be you and cover your ass as best they could. We both got really beat up in the process and you come out with a cut lip and a black eye. I appreciate that you were scared, I really do. But we were too. What was going to be so bad about playing out an evil ghost scene for a few hours with some girls?"

"Hillary, you just- God, you don't understand. Their practice is to force me out of this world so that I wouldn't even have a chance to get into the body if I wanted to. They were gonna send me to _Hell, _babe. I wouldn't be around anymore." His lip quibbled. While she did feel bad for him on some level, she wasn't satisfied.

"First of all, if you're going to talk to me like that, maybe I should call up those nice witches next door. Or maybe Jack and I will just deal with you ourselves. We can get you back into that Ouija board just as easily as we got you out. We'll google how to use it and stuff next time." Tate opened his mouth to protest, but Hillary silenced him. "Secondly, if we're going to put our asses on the line, I think both of us would like more help from you." She reached out for his hands. When she took them, he looked up at her, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Look, we're sort of a family now. Yeah, it's crazy and insane and a little dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless. We all got to protect each other from anything and everything, no matter what, okay?" Tate nodded.

"I-I'm really sorry. I could've done so much more back there. A-And I just- I just sat here and waited for you guys to take care of everything. I just- I don't know. I feel so useless. I'm so sorry, Hillary. And I'm so sorry to Jack, too. If I hadn't... If... I... Fucking-" He let go of her hands and put his head in his own. His back shuttered as tears fell down from his face. She sighed. Hillary scooted closer to him and rubbed his back. She wrapped her arms around him, and he let himself lay down in her lap. She comforted him as he cried, running her fingers through his hair and rocking back and forth slightly to soothe him.

"It's alright, bud. You just know what to do if something happens again, yeah?"

"Yeah." He was starting to calm down. The two continued to sit, not sure what else to say. Hillary was glad the conversation happened- it needed to be said.

Jack watched from the staircase as the whole exchanged happened. They sighed, content, and walked back up to their room. It had been a rough day so far, but despite everything that had happened, they considered the fact that maybe Murderhouse wasn't completely terrible. Things could work, and with the three of them being able to work as a unit, Jack had hope for the future of this whole situation.


	8. Chapter 8

The warm summer evening buzzed with clicking bugs and chirping crickets. A little traffic on the street, with the occasional sound of a car passing by. Nothing gave way to the fact shit seriously went down on that very road just a bit earlier in the day.

Tate decided to throw away his now scorched sweater. He held a small memorial for it, which Jack and Hillary were forced to attend. It consisted of him saying a eulogy for the sweater, the two saying a few words about it, then throwing it in the garbage can outside. He cried all the way back to the house, which neither of the two really understood, since he owned about forty more sweaters, about five of them looking almost identical to the burned green and black striped one. Neither of them brought that up. After the "funeral", the three decided to play a few board games, since nothing looked good on TV.

Hillary proved to be a champion at playing "Candyland", winning the title of the Queen of Candyland all six times they played. Tate was exceptionally good at "Chutes and Ladders", never hitting a chute and seeming to land on a ladder every turn. However, when the team brought out the "Settlers of Catan" game that the old tenants had "left" (Tate chased them out after trying to seduce one of the husbands. Oops.), Jack shocked everyone when they turned out to be actually really good, despite none of them ever playing it in their lives. At around seven, after the tenth consecutive round of Jenga, which they had all lost too many times, there was a knock at the door. All three turned to it with apprehension. Tate decided to be the one to answer. He got up, walked to the front, and opened it up. He let out a visible sigh of relief as he was greeted by Peter Quill.

"Hey!" Peter started. "I know it's sort of an awkward time to be asking this, but the gang and I are having a barbecue tomorrow, and we were wondering if you guys wanted to come!" He handed the other an invitation that was practically covered in glitter, featuring tiny portraits of all five guardians done in crayon, and "Barbecue Party!" written in swirly letters. The date, time, and where it was going to be was at the bottom of the note.

"Oh, this is adorable!" He said genuinely. "Who made it?"

"Drax and Groot. So, can you come?" Tate nodded.

"Yeah! I don't think we have anything going on tomorrow." He leaned in a bit. "Uh, the girls today... They're not coming, are they?"

"No, no no no. Just you guys and the people next to you. We haven't really met them yet. But otherwise, we're just keeping it small." He smiled.

"Alright, cool. Then, yeah! Count us in!"

"Great! See ya tomorrow, broski!" Peter clapped Tate on the shoulder and walked off towards the Maximoffs/Lehnsherrs/Xaivers. He closed the door and walked back into the living room.

"Who was it?" Asked Jack.

"Peter. He invited us to a barbecue, and I told him we could go. It should be fun!" He handed the invitation to the two. They looked at it, going "Aww!" simultaneously.

"Well, I'm down for free food." Said Hillary. Jack nodded in agreement. She set the invitation down on the coffee table. "Now get over here. It's your turn, and I've got five bucks on you knocking it down first." Tate sat down, analyzing the Jenga tower. He took out a piece, and it started to wobble, but it stayed up. Hillary then stomped on the ground, and took out the tower. "You owe me five bucks, meme!" She shouted in excitement.

"Cheater! I owe you nothing!" Jack yelled back. They tackled the other playfully and hit her with the pillow they were sitting on.

"Smells like ass!"

"How do you know what ass smells like?!" Hillary winked at Tate and he cackled while Jack screamed. In their moment of distraction, she grabbed the pillow from them and began to attack them with it. Tate joined in on the fun, tossing another pillow to Jack and grabbing one himself. The three began a full on war, feathers flying, screams and shouts being tossed at each other- at one point Jack started singing "One Day More" and quoted "Les Miserables" every chance they got. Barricades of cushions and blankets were made, and for the night, things were as normal as they could get in Murderhouse.

Eventually, the three all retired to their bedrooms at around midnight, not bothering to clean up the mess they made, saving it for the morning. Once in their beds, the three were all able to get to sleep rather quickly. However, the loud creak of their bedroom door awoke Jack at three in the morning.

They propped themselves up on their arms, looking around the room. Their door was open, which was unusual- they could've sworn they shut it when they went to bed. They got up out of bed, walked back to the door and closed it. They were much too tired to register or question how or why it was open. They began to walk back until a gloved hand was put over their mouth and an arm was wrapped around their torso. They screamed, but were muffled. Jack grabbed at the arm around their face, noticing that not only was the hand gloved, but the rest of it too. They didn't take much longer to think about what the perpetrator was wearing. They kicked their leg back with incredible force right into the crotch of the attacker. They immediately let go, clutching their injured groin. Jack ran to the other side of the room and grabbed their phone, about to dial 911.

"Don't." Said a strangled but familiar voice. They looked back at the figure, now on their knees and still holding their injury. The form was wearing a completely black rubber suit. It looked like something you could pick up at a BDSM store. If the situation hadn't been so terrifying, Jack might've laughed. Right now, they were fuming.

"I've had a really, really long day, douchebag. I don't need you to add onto it. I'mgoing to call the police and they will take your ass to jail where you fucking belong." They decided they must've been too tired to even express their fear. The being held up a hand weakly, as if asking for them to pause. They reached up to behind their head, finding a zipper, and taking off the head part of the suit. Silver hair fell out from the mask. They lifted up their head, a goofy but pained smile across their face. Jack turned on the bedside lamp, and when seeing who it was, threw their phone on the bed and ran their hands through their hair. "Oh my god."

"You didn't text."

"What the fuck, Pietro."

"Well, I was gonna zip in and say hi, but I found this in the attic, and like, I don't know what you guys are into. I assumed it was one of yours so I put it on because it was kinky and set the mood, y'know? I mean... With the look you're giving me I'm gonna guess it isn't working."

"Set the mood? What mood were you going for, exactly? Scare the shit out of Jack mood? Because that's what you got." They crossed their arms. "The only mood I'm in when I get woken up at some ungodly hour by someone who breaks into my house is pissed off." Pietro put his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He looked down at the ground.

"I... I just... I kinda like you. Like, a lot. You're cute and stuff and I thought you liked me too and I sorta acted on impulse, I guess." Jack sighed, feeling sorry for the other. They crossed over to him and sat down next to him, mimicking his position.

"Look, I- Ah, god. I like you too." Pietro looked up, hopeful. "But getting someone's attention shouldn't involve putting on a rubber dominatrix suit and scaring the bejeezus out of them, you feel me?" They chuckled a little, relaxing next to him. "It is pretty kinky, though. And creative. I'll give you that."

"So, uh, are we gonna...?"

"No." Pietro looked disappointed. "Stop being such a teenage boy, nerdo." They nudged against him playfully. "You can spend the night, though. I just think we oughta get to know each other more and go out on a few dates at least before, y'know,_ that_." He nodded.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He turned red suddenly. "I'm not really... Wearing... Anything... Underneath." Jack leaned their head against the door and busted up laughing.

"You're so great, Pietro. I've got a pair of sweatpants that might fit you." They got up and walked to the closet. They fished through one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of dark blue sweats. "Think these'll work?" They threw them at the boy. They landed on his face and he dragged them off.

"Is this as close as I'm getting to your crotch tonight?" He said as seductively as he could. They turned to him.

"It's as close as your getting to my brother's crotch probably ever. They were his." Pietro quickly adopted a look of shock on his face and Jack cackled. He got up and strode over to the closet, where he shut the door and started to change.

"You're such an ass, Jack." He said, chuckling a bit.

"And your's looked pretty great in that suit." Pietro could imagine them winking.

"Don't be a tease!"

"I'm giving you a compliment!" He rolled his eyes. He strode out in the sweats, still holding the suit.

"Where should I put this?" He asked. Jack stared at his chest. Sure, it was as pasty as a butt, but they would be lying if they didn't enjoy looking at it. Pietro caught their eye, and they turned away. "Like what you see?" He asked, running his hands across his abdomen and bucking his hips.

"You're a dick, you know that?" They walked over to the bed and got under the covers.

"What? What? Don't you want to see if the carpet matches the drapes?" He threw the suit away from him, where it landed in the middle of the room, spread out in some places and crumpled in others. It looked like some sort of outline in a murder scene.

"GROSS. Keep that up and I'm kicking you out." Pietro held up his hands.

"Alright, alright." He stared around the room. "Um, where do I sleep?"

"In the garbage can where you belong." Jack said sleepily, folding over the covers behind them and inviting him into the bed. He got in, pulling the sheets over him. "If you hog the blankets I'm gonna kick you." They turned off the light.

"Can I... uh..." He put his arm around the other and snuggled in close to them. "It's just a small bed, y'know?"

"So you're gonna act cocky all night and ask to spoon? That's adorable." They interlaced his fingers with their own. The feeling of Jack's gauze against his arm was a little alien to him, but everything else felt nice.

"I'm glad you got your burns taken care of." He said.

"Me too." They responded. They closed their eyes and tried to go to sleep. Pietro tried to do the same, but about five minutes in, he interrupted the process.

"Didn't Charles say you were gay?" He asked.

"Kinda killing the mood here, bud."

"Sorry, I just-"

"It's okay. It's complicated. I'm like, ninety-six percent gay. There are very few and rare exceptions."

"Oh." He thought for a second. "Am I one?"

"What do you think?" They responded lightheartedly. They shifted closer to him to make the message clear. "Dork." He rested his head close to theirs, sighing softly and getting a scent of their hair, which gave off a pleasant aroma. Pietro had a nice fragrance too- while he was a typical teenage boy in almost every aspect of the word, he thankfully didn't bathe in body spray. The two drifted off to sleep, enjoying their embrace for the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Tate and Hillary woke up early in the morning for them- around eight. They had been sharing a bed since Tate joined them in the house, but neither of them minded it. The girl started to stir first, and the other followed, trying to drag her back down for a few more minutes of sleep, but neither of them could will their eyes to stay shut any longer. They traveled down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hillary fixed herself up a bowl of cereal while her boyfriend made himself hot chocolate. It made her smile- little things that people do or prefer was always sweet to notice, she thought, like how he liked to have hot chocolate in the morning rather than coffee or tea or anything else. She sighed, happy.

"Can you go wake up Jack?" She asked. Tate whined. "I'll finish making your hot chocolate." She coaxed.

"Fine." He said, drawing out his word. When he walked by, she pulled him down to her level for a kiss. That certainly motivated him. He got back up and went back to the staircase. He ascended, and turned the hall and walked to the door of the teenager's bedroom. "Wakey wakey, eggs n' bac-y!" He said cheerfully, opening the door.

The first thing he noticed was that Jack wasn't alone in the bed. The second thing was the mass of silver hair spread across the pillow. The third was that the silver-haired person in bed wasn't wearing a shirt, and the fourth and final thing he saw before absolutely flying off the handle was the rubber suit laying in the middle of the floor. Tate didn't even take the time to process what he was looking at before letting out a high pitched shriek that sent the two shooting out of bed. Both of them screamed. Pietro covered his bare chest with the sheets while Jack got out, about to explain what was happening, but Tate continued to scream while pointing at the suit, panicked. In seconds, Hillary was up the stairs too, holding a cast-iron skillet and ready to strike at any minute. She too, began to scream, simply at the fact everyone else was screaming. She raised the skillet even higher above her head and held it with both hands, looking directly at Pietro, which made him scream even louder.

"Guys! GUYS!" Jack shouted above the noise, silencing everyone. The quiet resumed for a few moments. "Everything is alright... It's all gonna be okay-"

"I'M GONNA PUNCH YOU!" Tate shouted at the boy in bed. Pietro screamed again and this time jumped out of the covers and tried to run off. However, with Hillary and Tate blocking the exit, his plan had no avail. He caught the teenager in his arms, fueled with rage.

"WHY DO YOU WANT TO PUNCH ME?!" He shouted in terror.

"I... I don't know." Tate thought for a moment. "BUT I'LL FIND A REASON." He bellowed. The ghost revved up his fist while the mutant covered his face to the best of his ability. However, Hillary noticed the black suit on the floor for the first time. She gasped and dropped the skillet right onto Tate's toe. He dropped Pietro and clutched his foot, shouting in pain. The other fell onto his butt with a loud "THUMP" and scooted away, getting pushed up against the bed frame. He breathed heavily, panicked, but Jack stepped between the two.

"No one is punching anyone!" They yelled, holding their hands up to separate them. Hillary was still gawking at the rubber suit on the floor.

"Who's is that?!" She gasped.

"I don't know! It was in the attic!" Pietro shouted, trying to defend himself.

"Did you guys have sex in that?" She asked in a whispered tone, more to Jack than both of them.

"No!" Pietro and Jack yelled at the same time.

"We didn't... Yeah. We didn't do anything, I swear!" Jack justified. "Pietro just stayed over for the night, that's it." They said, leaving out a lot of details not only for the sake of time.

"Then why the hell is my rubber suit here?!" Tate shouted, still holding his toe.

"That's your's?!" Hillary shrieked.

"Oh my god, I wore that." Pietro put his hands to the side of his face in disbelief.

"Please tell me you had on underwear underneath." Tate asked with a shaking voice. Pietro shook his head left to right as the other sunk to his knees, putting his forehead down on the floor, not saying a word or making a sound. Pietro stood up to stand next to Jack. They took his hand and gained a new power in their voice.

"Y'all are crazy, first off, and secondly, this is a lot to lay on us at like... What time is it?"

"8:09" Tate said, his voice muffled by the hardwood floor.

"At 8:09 in the morning! We're ditching this scene." They wished they had a pair of sunglasses to put on and really burn the badassary into their words. Jack leaned into Pietro. "How are we going to leave?" They whispered.

"Like THIS." He bent over and pulled the other onto his back. They gripped his shoulder with one of their hands and made a rock and roll symbol with the other.

"Peace out, nerds." Pietro ran at supersonic speeds through the convenient open window, climbing onto the roof and out to wherever they were going. Hillary and Tate were left alone.

"What the fuck." She said, almost not comprehending what had happened.

"My toe hurts so much and my suit is ruined." He sniffled. "This is the worst day of my life and I didn't even get to beat up that dork." He splayed himself out across the floor. "And my hot chocolate's probably cold too."

"You kind of shot fifteen people and got gunned down by, like, five dudes. Are you sure this is the worse day of your life?" She leaned against the doorframe.

"Yeah." She sighed.

"We should go get ready for the party. It starts at two." Tate nodded as best he could with his head still on the ground. Hillary knew they'd come back eventually. Teenagers could be so volatile sometimes, but with how her boyfriend reacted to the situation, ghosts must be in the same boat too.


	10. Chapter 10

At 1:55, Hillary and Tate headed over to the guardian's house, bringing a two-liter sized bottle of Mountain Dew with them. Neither Jack nor Pietro had shown up, but they both knew where the two were going to be for the evening, so the pair didn't worry. They knocked on the door, and with some loud footsteps, it was answered in a matter of seconds.

"Hey guys!" Peter said. "Aw, sick! You brought 'Dew!" Tate handed it over to him.

"We can't really... Y'know, buy alcohol yet. I hope that's okay." Hillary expressed.

"Nah man! It's all good! Rocket seriously loves this stuff- he'll be glad you got it!" He waved his hand inside of the house. "C'mon! We're set up in the back." Peter guided the two to the backyard. Gamora was starting to set up the grill, wearing an apron that said "Kiss the Cook and You Get Your Arm Shot Off". Drax and Rocket seemed to be in a very intense game of "Go Fish", and Groot was playing in the sprinkler that appeared to be set up especially for them. They stopped for a moment to wave at Hillary and Tate, but continued their frolicking. Drax looked up from his game.

"Hello Terrian friends!" He bellowed heartily. He turned back to Rocket. "Do you have any fives?"

"Go fish." The raccoon said. Drax took the last card from the pile. "Got any sevens?" He set his cards down on the table, revealing his last two sevens. Rocket let his cards fly in the air. "I win! 8-0! C'mon bud, another round! I wanna see if I can get to ten!" Drax stood up and flipped over his plastic lawn chair with such force that it made a small crater in the ground when it landed.

"This is a bogus game!"

"Drax!" Peter shouted.

"Everything on Earth is so sensitive." He tried to rationalize.

"Sore loser..." Rocket said under his breath. Drax stared at him with daggers in his eyes.

"Hey girlfriend!" Gamora said, waving over Hillary. She walked to her, performing the intricate handshake they had perfected last time she came to the guardians' house. Tate went over to the section Rocket and Drax were sitting at.

"...Aren't the Earth girl and the ghost dating? Are all three of you dating? She isn't your girlfriend." Drax said, confused. Gamora rolled her eyes while Peter sat down and explained what she meant to the man. The two instantly hit off a conversation.

"How're you doing? I mean, yesterday was super insane." The green skinned woman started.

"Oh man, yeah. We're all recovering pretty well though, thanks for asking."

"It sucks that we only came in at the end of it all. Those witches, messing with my girl!" She punched Hillary in the arm. "Who would I reenact Footloose with?" Drax turned up at that, looking very hurt.

"Is Footloose the only musical you know?" She asked with curiosity.

"There's more?!" Gamora looked downright shocked.

"Oh, hon. You need to come over sometime! We'll have a big musical movie night. We've got a huge collection, since Jack's really... Into that." She trailed off at the end, sighing. The other gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Oh my god, I didn't- I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Wait what."

"It was yesterday, wasn't it? It was those girls!"

"What happened?!" Peter ran to Gamora.

"Jack's dead!" He had a sharp intake of breath. He embraced Hillary, stroking her hair.

"They're in a better place now." He said.

"Jack's not dead!" She responded, a little muffled by his coat. "They just ran off with the neighbor's kid this morning. That's why they're not here. It's okay! I promise they're not dead!"

"The one with the grey hair?" Gamora asked. She nodded and Peter let go from the girl awkwardly.

"Well that's a little embarrassing." He laughed uncomfortably and clapped Hillary on the shoulder. "Glad they're not dead." He started to walk back to the boys when the doorbell rang. "That must be the others!" He stated, glad for an excuse to get out of the yard for a few moments. Peter walked to the front door and opened it, greeting his guests with a smile.

"Hello Mr. Quill!" Said Charles Xaiver cheerfully.

"Please, just Peter!" He took the other's hand and shook it firmly. "Or Starlord!" Erik Lehnsherr looked at him with some form of disbelief plastered across his face. "Or Peter. Peter's cool." He said, his voice going an octave higher as he looked toward the ground.

"Pleased to see you again, Peter." Erik held out his hand and he shook it in the same manner. The Polish one handed over a bottle of an expensive looking red wine. He inspected it for a few moments.

"Cool! Well, come on in, guys! We're all in the backyard." He led the two in, setting the wine next to the bottle of Mountain Dew. Charles and Erik exchanged slightly confused looks to each other, but kept walking alongside Quill. They made their way out to the back, where they were all greeted by the six. Hillary excused herself from Gamora and went over to the two.

"Good to see you two again!" She said.

"You as well." Erik said politely.

"I hate to be upfront," She started. "But have you seen Pietro or Jack at all today?"

"Pietro left a note sometime this morning, said he was over at your house and meet up with us here?" Charles questioned.

"He left with Jack at around eight this morning."

"Odd. I don't want to be too worried, though. He may not be the most responsible boy, but I'm sure Jack will keep him in line until they show up again." Erik tried to console. Hillary and Charles both sighed in unison, both trying to have some faith that their missing components would show up. They went on their separate ways- Hillary went back to talking with Gamora about all sorts of musicals they had back at the house. Erik and Charles joined Peter, Rocket, Drax and Tate. Groot joined them soon after, and the telepath got into a riveting conversation with the raccoon and plant being. The metal manipulator continued to make small talk with the remaining guardians and the ghost. Eventually, when Gamora got the grill up and running, the two moved to the lawn chairs and joined the others in a lively conversation.

The day went overall smoothly. After a few beers, Erik tried to beat Groot in a boxing match, which ended with the man rolling on the ground after getting a splinter and threatening mutant superiority, whatever that meant. Things settled down after that. Gamora was about to light up the grill, but everything halted to a stop when the nine noticed the sun get blotted out for a few seconds, but come back. It was as if they had just witnessed a miniature eclipse. They all looked to the sky incase of a further event.

"What even was that?" Rocket questioned.

"How would we know, man?" Peter responded.

"I'm not feeling too good about this." Tate added, visibly shifting closer to Hillary. She and Charles turned to each other, wondering if they were thinking the same thing. The telepath didn't have to wonder for too long as he read the girl's mind and confirmed that yes, in fact, they were thinking the same thing.

"I think we might have an idea about it." She voiced. The gang all turned to her and the man, waiting for the plan. Before either of the two could get out a word, however, the object that had blocked out the sun did it again, this time seeming to hover for a few moments. In another second, the opening to Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant" song pierced everyone's ears. It continued to play as a swirling cloud of black dust began to form in the center of the gang. They moved away from it as it grew in size, enveloping the middle, throwing lawn chairs away from it. It ripped and roared for a few more seconds until subsiding. The dust began to clear away, getting pulled from itself in opposite directions. In the heart of the cloud stood a tall man. He wore green and gold, what looked like regal wears, as if those of a prince. At the same time, however, they looked completely out of this world. Atop his head, covering some of his black hair, he wore a golden helmet, with curved horns protruding from them. A staff in one hand and a wicked smile across his face, he stood and looked at the nine, most of them looking in shock or fear or a bit of both. His cutting blue eyes moved across the crowd, taking each one of them in.

Suddenly, an object dropped down from the sky, landing on it's feet with a fist in the ground. It stood up. They wore a black, silver and blue uniform. The boots came up to a little below the knee, standard military grade and black, lacing up the whole way. However, one lace was blue, the other silver. It looked like almost a juvenile addition that could've been made by the wearer themselves. The pants seemed to be made of leather, with interweaving belts attached to them and knee pads built in. The shirt they wore made an "X" out of the silver and blue, stretching across their chest. There were no sleeves on the shirt, but the figure was wearing gloves that stopped at the knuckle but went up to the middle of the bicep, completely black save for the grey stitching that swirled up the arm. They wore a pair of goggles, and the silver hair was a dead giveaway of who was beside this otherworldly prince. Then, with a great gust of wind, another figure dropped down. They had a great pair of ethereal wings that retracted back into their outfit, which was the same as the other's, except with red instead of blue. They also wore a mask that covered their face and nose and wraparound shades. They landed gracefully, standing on the left side of the man.

"Greetings, Midgardians." Boomed the man in green "I am Loki of Jötunn. I come with my newest accomplices. They have vowed to serve me well in my escapades, and have proven to be fine soldiers in my army. First," Loki circled around the one on his right and clapped him on the back. "Pietro, son of Maximoff! Skilled in agility, hand-to-hand combat, and music taste!" He pressed a panel on on of his belts and "Immigrants" faded out.

"Thanks man."

"It is no trouble, my broski." Loki held out his hand in a fist and Pietro bumped it. The silver haired boy smiled in approval. "Second!" He circled back to the other figure, placing his hand on their shoulder and giving them a small shake. "Adept in ariel warfare, the youngest, yet one of the most skilled of our squadron, Jaques, child of the Nebula!" His voice echoed off the house, but the presentation was almost anticlimactic. They pulled off the facial guard and sunglasses, turning to the man.

"First off, it's Jack."

"But Jaques is so much cooler!" Loki stomped his foot.

"I didn't choose my name!" Jack laughed at the irony that they did, in fact, choose their name. "Secondly, just because I told you everything in the universe is made of dying stars doesn't mean I'm literally born out of one. I have, y'know, actual parents."

"Jaques of the Nebula is one of the coolest names I've ever had the chance to say. I introduce people and you get something like 'John, child of Debra' or some bullshit like that. Just let me have this moment. Please." Jack was going to open their mouth to protest but Loki waved his staff menacingly.

"I hate to interrupt," Hillary started. "But what the fuck is going on?"

"Same to you, Pietro. What happened?!" Charles added. Tate and Erik went to their respected places along side their other.

"Please, Jaques, Pietro, tell them the story of triumph!" Loki looked to them proudly as if they were his own children. Jack turned to the other and shrugged their shoulders a little timidly.

"Well, uh... Alright, a lot happened, first off." Jack began. "So, Pietro and I ran over to New Mexico because he knew this great breakfast place there, which was totally awesome, might I add. Seriously, they make the best pancakes there." The two exchanged a high five. "But New Mexico's pretty scenic and stuff, but where we're at- it's just a really small town. There's, like, no one. But at this breakfast place, there are these girls talking about astronomy and science and stuff and how they gotta go fix this inter-dimensional portal thing? Well, Pietro and I are like, 'Hell yeah, we oughta go check this out', because who doesn't want to go see an inter-dimensional portal thing, y'know? So, we kinda sneak around, witness the fixing of the thingy, and they start revving it up and stuff, so Pietro gets the idea to go into this portal and see what's up. I mean, what could go wrong, right?"

"Right!" Pietro added.

"Thanks Pietro. Anyway, so when the thing is ready, I jump onto his back and we zoom into this portal. I mean, we figure if things turn to shit, we can just speed back. So we get there where we land in Asgard!" Jack added a flourish of their hands to emphasize their point. Pietro added some sound effects. "But, we aren't exactly... Welcome, lets say. I mean, if two weird kids appeared through some portal at your house, you'd be pretty freaked out too, right? So, to keep things short, these guards take us to Odin, and Odin's all like 'Put them in the brig!' and we're like 'Nooooo' but we get taken to this Asgardian jail thing anyway. But, across from our cell, because we're sharing a cell, budget cuts or something, is this guy." Jack pointed to Loki. "So we strike up a bit of a conversation, and he's all like 'Hey, you wanna be a part of my army', and we've got nothing better to do. I mean, we're in Asgardian jail- not much else is going for us right now. So, we're like, 'Yeah sure, cool', and he's all like, 'Great. First assignment, break out of the prison with me', and we're like 'Uh'. Pietro starts throwing himself against the glass thing, and I try to use my wit and charm to entice a guard to let us out, but none of that works. But Thor, who's Loki's brother-" Loki went boneless on the ground and started screaming. "-Ex-brother...?" Loki immediately popped back up and continued listening to the story. "Uh... Thor is all like 'Hey Loki, if you're not gonna be a dick I'll let you out', and Loki is all like, 'Yeah sure whatever'. So Thor, being Thor, lets Loki out of the cell. He then uses his magical abilities and stuff and opens up our cell, and he says all badass to Thor, 'They're coming with us' and Thor's like 'What about Dad' but Loki straight up knocks Thor out with his scepter, which was badass as hell. Also, I should probably mention that Asgardian time is a lot faster than Earth time. Like, we spent a week in that jail. But that's also why Loki is like, hella old but looks in his thirties. Honestly, I'm probably, like, twenty on Asgard, which is so insane, like, woah, I can drive in Asgard." Loki prodded Jack with the scepter, motioning for them to continue with the story. "Sorry. Anyway, us three walk out of there like nobodies business all badass and stuff, but Pietro and I are both like, 'What the heck are we gonna do now', and Loki is like, 'We're gonna make an army!' So we spend the next Asgardian year going around the galaxy and recruiting people and destroying planets and training and it's pretty rad. It's also how I got these sick wings." Jack spread them out to make their point. "Some dude on Råshiknöch spent his whole life or something making them, some Icarus and Daedalus kind of thing. Anyway, after we recruited everyone we needed to from that planet, Pietro stole them for me to celebrate our first Asgard year anniversary and they've just been baller to use." They retracted them back. "But yeah. Spent the next four years training, and now we're gonna take over Earth I guess. Just wanted to drop by and say hi though." Jack made a 'Phew!' sound and turned to Pietro. "Am I missing anything?"

"Nah. I'm just kind of shocked at how slow thing are here. Like, man, I'm still on Asgard time, y'know?"

"Dude, I know! Like, I feel like I should be asleep right now. It's been five years on a completely separate planet, and here it's still the day we left." The two spent a few moments making 'mind-blown' hand motions as Loki turned back to the group.

"This is what I've gotten to deal with for five years."

"Try seventeen." Charles responded, crossing his arms. He turned to Pietro. "I don't care if you're one of the most skilled mercenaries in the universe, Mister. You're grounded for the next two months. Now you can go take that silly costume off, march straight home, and think about what you've done." Pietro gasped.

"I didn't even do anything!"

"Uh, yes, you did, as Jack so articulately put it!"

"You can't control me! I'm, like, twenty-two now!"

"You may be twenty-two on Asgard, but you're still living under our roof and entering your last year of high school in August. Now back to the house!"

"No!" Pietro and Charles continued to argue with each other. Hillary and Tate turned to Jack, who put their head down and faced the ground.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Hillary asked. Jack mumbled something towards the direction of the lawn. "Speak up."

"I said that you guys are buttholes and I'm sticking with Loki!" They moved a little closer to him and he draped his arm over their other shoulder, flashing a smile to the opposite two.

"Why do you even want to be on his side?! He's going to destroy Earth, you know that, right?"

"I don't care! I've got a rad life on Asgard! I'm a leader! People fear me! Can you even grasp how cool that is?"

"No, because I'm a normal human being and don't want people to be afraid of me, Jack!"

"Oh, 'normal human being', says the girl who's dating a psychopathic dead boy."

"Low blow." Hillary and Jack argued further. Loki admired the chaos around him. However, the guardians weren't going to let two families unravel in their backyard. Peter cleared his throat, but that alone wasn't loud enough to get everyone's attention. He cleared it a little louder- still no avail. By the third time, Drax decided to take matters into his own hands. He bellowed a shout that sent a chill through everyone. Peter stepped forward.

"Thank you, Drax." He shivered a bit. "I think I've got a way to solve everyone's problems."

"Why would we want that?" Loki asked.

"Because... It's a competition. You like competitions, right?" The other man nodded. "Cool, cool. We're going to settle this with a dance battle. You, Jack, and Pietro against me, Drax, Gamora, Groot, Rocket, Hillary and Tate."

"That seems uneven-" Jack started, but Loki silenced them.

"And what do we get if we win?" He questioned.

"If you win," Peter began. "You get to do whatever you were planning to do with Earth." Gamora gave him a whack on the arm, to which he quickly continued. "But! If we win, we get to get Jack and Pietro back, continue our barbecue in peace, and you never come to Earth again." Loki chuckled.

"Seems like a fair deal. I'd like to see you all try to beat the best dancers in Asgard!" He put his scepter underneath Peter's chin. The crowd gasped, but he stopped them with a wave of his hand. "Little do you know, I recruit based off of two abilities- skill in combat, and skill in dance. These two are the best in both. Good luck, Mr. Quill."

"Same to you, Satan-Leprechaun." Despite the insult, Loki snickered. He took out his object from the other's chin and set his scepter down. The three turned around, and with a snap of the man's fingers, the twelve were transported to a large alley. There were slabs of cardboard underneath the three dancers and they all wore matching sweatpants and hoodies. Rap music began to blast from some unknown source. The three turned around as Loki began rapping at the speed of light while Pietro and Jack began to breakdance on the cardboard. They did hand glides, floor rockers, moon walks, back spins, spider crawls, all in complete synchronization with the other. When Loki stopped, he got down on the ground and began to breakdance along side Jack while Pietro busted some tight rhythm and rhymes. When Pietro stopped, Jack took up the rap, until all three got up and rapped in harmony with each other. The dance and song ended with the three side to side with each other, arms crossed and hoods up. The nine couldn't help but applaud, but then immediately grouped up together in a circle.

"Shit, they were really good." Peter breathed.

"How the hell are we gonna top that?!" Rocket whispered angrily.

"I know how." Tate said. They all turned to face him. "Theoretically, can take down this nerd if you all use our combined power." All the others were confused..

"What exactly is the plan?" Erik asked timidly. Tate looked over to him.

"Did you ever see the movie 'Footloose'?" Hillary gripped onto her boyfriend's shoulder.

"Babe, are you sure?" He nodded.

"It's time I stepped up, hon. I need to protect my family."

After a few more moments of talk amongst the nine, they got up out of their circle. Tate stepped in front of the crowd, facing Loki.

"Alright, mister. Two can play at this game. We're gonna end this once and for all. Don't forget our deal."

"Dear, dear, Tate, I may be a trickster, but I always honor my agreements."

"Good. That makes both of our jobs a heck of a lot easier." Tate snapped his fingers, and the setting instantly changed once again. He turned to face his group with a look of awe on his face. The boys wore different variations of tee-shirts with rolled up sleeves, torn jeans rolled to the ankle, and converse high tops. They had their hair slicked back with grease- Drax, Peter, Charles and Erik each had a cigarette behind their ear. The girls had on poodle skirts and denim tops, hair in up-dos and strapped black one-inch heels on their feet. They all looked to Tate for further direction. He grinned with a smile that lit up the whole room. "Hey, hey! What's this I see? I thought this was a party! Let's dance!" He shouted, quoting Kevin Bacon. The title song of the musical began to start up as the nine revved up to begin their boogie. They grapevined, angle stepped, heel split, slapped their leather, toe touched, and sang. They sang with all their heart. During the paired part of the dance, Hillary danced with Tate, Gamora danced with Peter, Charles with Erik, and Groot with Rocket, while Drax bust out an incredible solo on a tenor saxophone. They swung and tapped and danced until their feet hurt, but they continued to dance. And with each move, Loki was visibly growing weaker. He crumpled into himself, disintegrating into shards of light. He collapsed on his knees and screamed as he exploded into dust, literally being blown away by the performance. The dance ended with a pelvic thrust strong enough to completely destroy Loki with a flourish. They cheered as the scene went back to the guardian's backyard, grill still firing up, lawn chairs back in place, and everyone back in the clothes they were wearing before the dance battle.

"Shit." Uttered Pietro, not so much as a remorse, but more in shock.

"Yeah." Jack agreed. Not that the two would miss Loki much, but they had spent the last five Asgardian years with him- it had made some impression on them. The two turned up from the spot where their leader once stood.

"Now what?" The boy asked. The other simply shrugged.

"Pretend like the last five years didn't happen?" They suggested.

"No," Jutted in Tate. The group all turned to him, surprised to hear him speak. "I've spent a lot of my life pretending a lot of stuff didn't happen. Hell, I've spent a lot of my death doing that too. But all those experiences shape us. They add to us. As humans, we're like... Presents. You gotta unwrap the gift, get it out of the box, tear away the extra packaging and tape and whatever, and then do you finally get to what was inside. And maybe it's a lot different that what the box advertised, but it's still us. And that's just wonderful." He turned to Jack. "Y'know, Jack, things have been rough. This crazy genocidal ghost boy is suddenly dating your best friend. What now? But you made it work. And Hillary," He looked over to his girlfriend, who returned his gaze. He took her hands into his. "I hope that I can be the boyfriend you'd be proud to have. I don't want to forget my past, but I want to grow from it. But most of all, I want to grow with you." Her lib quibbled as she began to wipe at her eye.

"You fricking nerd." She said, embracing him in a hug. "You get over here too, meme." She said to Jack. They ran over and added to the cuddle-puddle. Peter joined in too, then Gamora, Rocket, Drax, Charles, and Erik. Charles waved Pietro over, who entered into the hug fest as well. Erik gave him a fatherly clap on the back as the eleven shared a great embrace.

"You know, son, I... Well, when I was young, I too, wanted to make a band of mutants. The Brotherhood is what we would've been called. I wanted to rebel and-" Erik started, but Pietro stopped him.

"Kinda killing the mood here, bud." He said, quoting Jack and winking at them. They rolled their eyes to him, and Erik stayed silent. In the midst of enjoying their embrace, they then suddenly felt themselves all get picked up by Groot, who delivered the most grand hug anyone could ask for.

Despite everything that had happened to the twelve, the hope for change in the future still remained, as it always had. They all knew they would most likely face more trials and tribulations to come- that was sort of the bargain when you were put in an abnormal situation. But they would face it together, and together, they knew they could do anything.


	11. Epilogue

School had started for Hillary and Jack in late August. Hillary started college to study cosmetics and makeup in the film industry. Maybe she'd try her hand at Astronomy, too. With the Guardians of the Galaxy right next door, she shouldn't have much of a problem. Jack still had another two years of high school to go, but was ready to make the most of it. They had kept the wings they had gotten over the summer and routinely used them to go anywhere. Without their drivers license, it was the preferred method of travel. Pietro turned out to go to their school, and even shared their History class, taught by a Mr. Howlett, a very muscly guy who would always drink coffee and who Pietro would always make dog barking noises at. That earned him a few detentions throughout the year. Charles and Erik never told the paranormal household next door that the school was an undercover operation for mutant children.

The guardians decided to spend more time in California then they had originally planned. Sure, they made routine trips to make sure no Infinity Stones were missing or some new Ronan was trying to take over the universe, but other than that, they mostly stayed in their dilapidated ex-frat boy house.

Overall, life was good for the three neighbors.

That was, until mid-October, when Murderhouse received a knock at the door. Hillary answered it. It was a familiar woman. She wore a white blouse, black pants, and her blonde hair hung a little lower than her shoulders. Hillary recognized her as the woman who escorted the witches off their property last summer. She looked around for Tate, but the woman laughed as she searched.

"Honey, I'm not here to take your boyfriend, I promise." She stopped looking and coolly leaned against the threshold. She trusted the woman, since she did get rid of the problem they had those months ago, but she was one of them.

"Then what's up?"

"I'll keep it short for you. My name is Cordelia Peters- I'm just right across the street, as you can probably remember." Hillary nodded. "Well, the house is actually an academy. For witches. We train them and help them learn their powers for good."

"That's not what I saw in the summer."

"That's because the woman who ruled over them, their Supreme, had failed as one. But that won't be a problem anymore. I've replaced her."

"With who?"

"Myself."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. But, I came to tell you that you're quiet special. You're different." She took the girl's hands. "Hillary, you're a witch."

"Excuse me?"

"How would you like to join Robichaux Academy?"

**FIN**


End file.
